The Second Verse
by Ladieewit
Summary: John writes to Paul, pleading for a chance to write the second verse of their song after years of silence.
1. Chapter 1

**Second Verse**

**Second Verse Part 1**

**By: McLennonForever12**

**Summary: John writes to Paul, pleading for a chance to write ****_the second verse_**** of their song after years of silence. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Beatles, or the story. But really liked it and considering the author deleted the story I decided to post it so enjoy :)**

* * *

The Second Verse

_Dear Paul,_

Do you remember June 8, 1962? Not as your twentieth birthday, but for something else? I do. And I think about it often, so often that I can relive it second for second. You know what? I think you may have forgotten, as I recall you were drunk on that particular evening. But it didn't matter for me.

In case you can't seem to find that memory, that little tiny corner of your mind, I'll remind you.

We were sitting behind your house, on those disgusting lawn chairs your parents bought you as a house warming gift, chain smoking and drinking some of your fancy birthday champagne. As we were passing the bottle between the two of use, we talked. You told me about how much you couldn't wait to get married, how much you wanted to be important and loved to somebody. What you didn't know was that I'd been in love with you for a while. You had no clue, none.

I told you I knew that you'd find somebody someday. I promised that you would have a wife and a whole household of children to look after. Thankfully, you've gotten that and much more.

But that night, something changed, something grew. I remember that I  
reached out and brushed your cheek, caressed your soft skin. You blushed, as I recall, and looked away. I'm chuckling right now as I think about how many times I've made you blush, you obsessive blusher. After I drew back, you looked over at me, your hazel eyes filled with hunger. You placed the nearly empty bottle on the ratty table, with that hideous tablecloth you insisted was fab, and kissed me. I was surprised, and shocked. I had no idea what brought you to do that, but I didn't care. My wildest dream had just came true, and I wasn't going to let my mind ruin it. But that was only the beginning, the first of hundreds of kisses to come.

I don't really know what tore us apart, nor how we let it happen. Whether it was Yoko, or the band, or what, I'll never know for sure. All I know is that it shouldn't have even crossed our minds. We were so in love, how did this happen? How? Do you know what I did when you married Linda? I cried for months. If you married her, then you were over me. I wasn't, and still aren't, ready to accept that you've given up on us.

Have you guessed the reason for this letter yet? No? Well, Macca, you've gotten stupider. I'm trying to say please come back to me, Paul. I know that we're both married, I know that we both have children now. The two of us can make this work, trust me. Sean would love to have siblings, and I'm sure that Heather and Stella would like a baby brother. We could buy a cottage back in Liverpool, and send the kids to our old schools. While they're off, we can start our own band with just us. Finally, we could play the music we always wanted to, and not have to cater to anybody else's tastes. Think about how amazing that would be, how happy we'd be together again.

I love you. Don't you forget it.

Always,  
John

P.S. I still have my ring. It's not too late.

Paul folded the letter carefully, sure to not rip the thin paper. He stood up and slowly walked over to his tall dresser that leaned against the far wall of the bedroom. Opening the bottom drawer, he sifted through the old tee-shirts to the very back corner. His hand pulled out his prize, a hard reminder of a previous chapter in his life.

Shining in its golden glory, a ring glistened in his large hand. The engraving on the simple, thick band still looked fresh and new, as if it had just been carved into the metal. The words brought tears to the bassist's eyes, stinging and salty: Same song, but this time let's move to the second verse.

The next morning, Paul tossed all his clothes into his leather suitcase and boarded the earliest flight to New York. On his left hand, a single band circled his ring finger: His engagement ring to John Lennon, given all those years ago.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: I'm Here (Again)**

**PAUL POV**

The soft pounding of rain filled the nervous silence of the taxi. Bright lights, and busy crowds surrounded the bustling streets. There never seemed to be a second of relief and peace in New York, or at least since I arrived an hour ago.

For the three hour plane ride, I lost myself in my thoughts and feelings. I was off to go see John again, my true and only love, in his home. My stomach turned into knots and the anxiety was nearly sickening. I knew that he would welcome me now that I had my ring planted on my finger.  
This morning, I told Linda I had an emergency meeting with the corporate board in America and didn't know when I'd be back. Stupidly, she fell for it. My wife didn't even notice that I wasn't wearing my wedding band as I walked out of the door. Once in the safety of the taxi, I slid on my other ring. The golden circle barely fit around my large finger, for it had been years since I last wore it. I wondered if John still wore his, the nearly identical twin of mine.

We were never married, John and I. Not officially anyway. Just engaged and foolishly in love, we dug through the bible and recited the wedding vows in the living room of our apartment. My lovesick heart swelled at the memory of our "First dance", his hands on my waist, my arms around his shoulders. Back in the sixties, it was illegal to be homosexual, and we were not willing to go to jail just for a church wedding.

"The Dakota, right?" The driver said in his thick accent. "It's just a little up the road, maybe two more minutes if we can get past this light."

"That's fine." I told him, nodding and taking my gaze back to the sidewalk outside.

The cab slowed, and turned into a small, modest courtyard. Trees and a tiny garden was the extent of the beauty, but I wasn't here for the sights. Not that one anyway.

As I stepped out of the car, my stomach dropped a whole level. The building oozed John, everything about it was so him.

The rain drizzled into my eyes, and ran down my face, blurring my vision. I pulled my coat tighter around myself, bracing from the icy wind. Attempting to look confident, I threw back my shoulders and took a deep breath.

I hadn't gotten more than two steps when the driver reminded me I didn't pay, his tone annoyed and impatient. Embarrassed, I shoved a wad of American dollars in his waiting hands. I promised to call him after my visit.

The doorman politely opened the glass front doors for me with a warm smile. "Welcome to the Dakota, Mr. McCartney."

I nodded to him and continued towards the circular front desk. The manager cracked a smile and beckoned me over with a wave of his hand. I couldn't help but wonder if their hospitality was only present due to my status.

"Can you give buzz the apartment for John Lennon? Tell him the Macca's come to visit." I asked quietly, suddenly very self-conscious. Discreetly, I drug my left hand back under the counter to hide my ring. Nobody but George and Ringo knew about our makeshift wedding, but I was just too nervous to let it slide.

"Yes, sir." He said as he turned over to the callbox. I watched him pick up the little micro phone and press the button labeled 412.

"Mr. Lennon?" He greeted into the machine. "You have a visitor, he said to tell you Macca-"

"Send him up." John gruffly interrupted. My heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice. The manager motioned towards the elevators with a smile.

Once inside, I really started to worry. Maybe the letter was a mistake, or maybe he'd changed his mind. It's been years since I last saw him, and even longer since we decided to "divorce". There was no doubt in my mind that I loved him, and I thought he still had affection towards me. John was always a complicated man, I never really knew exactly how he felt.

The doors creaked open, and revealed a lavishly decorated corridor. The lightening was dim, and the only light came from bulbs that dotted the wall panels. The colors were rich and dark, and the air smelled fresh and clean. Faintly, I believed I could smell John's cologne.  
Door 412 was clearly marked and defined by a plague. There was no turning back now, not that I'd even consider it. I raised my fist and knocked once.

The door swung open, revealing a much different John Lennon than I'd last seen. His hair had grown out, and fluttered down to his shoulders. Those glasses he hated so much were present on his aged face. Honestly, he looked like a mess, but a very attractive mess indeed.  
Without a word, he reached down to my left hand. Bringing it to his eyelevel, he smiled at what he saw. "I remember this old thing."

I plucked his hand up and grinned at the sight of his own wedding band. "I remember this old thing."

John stroked my cheek, and let his fingers caress my damp hair. "Do you want to get married? For real this time?"

"We're both already married, John." I sadly pointed out as I laced my fingers with his. "But I would if I could."

"Me too." He agreed while wrapping his arms around my waist. I rested my own on his shoulders, just like I used to. John leaned in and brushed his lips against mine, then touched foreheads. "You should stay the night. Yoko and Sean aren't home."

"I'll stay, as long as I get the left side of the bed." I chuckled.

John laughed. Oh, how I forgot how much I loved his laugh. "You bastard."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: TheTimeline**

I'm going to take you back a bit. Close your eyes, and let your mind go blank. Listen to my voice, for I'll carry you through a long journey in such a short period of time. There are so many events that I have to cover, so let's not dawdle here for too long.

Hold on tight, here we go.

_Picture two boys: One is taller than the other, and has dark hair that's gelled up in an Elvis-type fashion and his friend looks nearly identical, just short and more thickly built. They both have guitars strung across their backs, and callouses the size of bottle caps on their fingers to prove their hard dedication to their instruments._

Walking side by side, they take turns kicking a rock back and forth. Somebody kicks it a little too hard, and it sails over towards the middle of the street. A car comes out of nowhere, and the pebble gets lodged inside the wheel. The younger of the two boys, Paul, shrugs and looks longingly at the place where his plaything last was seen.

Sensing his friend's sadness, the shorter of the two, John, says "It's okay, Paulie. There'll be another one up the road."

Now think of those same boys, but a little older.

_The box of cigarettes is sitting halfway between the pair, but neither make a move towards it. Paul's father is completely unaware that his son had smuggled the pack from his drawer, but Paul can't stop feeling the guilt. He wants to try the glorious activity that so many of his friends take part in, and he wants to impress the boy sitting across from him, but he feels like it's the wrong thing to do._

John, on the other hand, feels quite different. Smoking wasn't something that he fears, or has any real feelings towards, but he shares the same incentive as his dear friend. He wants to impress Paul, and show his superiority to the younger boy. Confidently, he pulls one of the cigarettes out of the pack, and lights it. With caution, he raises it to his lips and takes a first drag. John coughs, and feels utterly embarrassed.  
Following his friend's example without question, Paul plucks his own cigarette and holds it out to John. "Can you light this for me?"

"Stick it in between your lips." John commands. Paul does as he's told, and anxiously waits for the trail of smoke that's sure to come.

But instead of lighting the stick, John pulls it out of his friend's mouth. Hesitantly, John leans forwards to kiss Paul's pouted lips, but loses his esteem at the last second. Popping the cigarette back, John pretends nothing happened. But Paul doesn't. He's confused, and wonders what on earth John was thinking.

Years and years later, Paul finally understands what had happened that afternoon. Let's jump to the year 1962, to Hamburg and to the beginnings of a beautiful romance.

_It was nearly an hour after the boys finished their last sets, but Paul was the last to arrive to the apartment that night. He had gotten separated from the group, and had to fend on his own. Walking on his tip-toes, he quietly stumbles on his bunk underneath Stu. John snores slightly on the bed next to him, and Paul can't help but notice how peaceful he looks._

John's hair is a sweaty mess, and sticks to his forehead in one big glob. Paul brushes it away, and is overcome with the urge to lean down and kiss the young man. Pushing the thought out of his head, Paul tries to stand and climb into bed. But he can't.

Gently, Paul kisses John's cheek.

"Goodnight, Johnny." He whispers. "I-I love you."

John smiles in his sleep, or so Paul thinks. But really, John isn't asleep,  
or even tired for that matter. The older boy is too ecstatic to fall under, now that his longtime crush has just shown his feelings.

From that point on, both the boys dream for the day when they can hold each other, and share their love. They have to wait several more years for that day, but when it comes, Paul and John's lives have changed forever.

_John holds his breath as he watches Paul's face draw closer and closer to his. His stomach drops in sweet anticipation, as does Paul's, and he leans his face forward to meet the bassist's faster. The second their lips meet, John pushed his lover against the rim of the bathroom sink while Paul let his hands flutter to John's waist. John, always fighting for dominance, shoved his tongue into the other's mouth, and pressed deeper against the younger man. Paul loves the feeling of John's body touching his own, but greatly fears being caught by the other two Beatles or a member of the entourage._

"Mmm, John." Paul says as he pulls away. "John, stop."

John frees his grip, and tries to apologize. But Paul doesn't accept it, for that would make John assume he didn't enjoy their little exchange. 

The first of many kisses, that is. And we can assure you that our couple has many more kisses, and many more experiences to share.

_"I want to get married someday." Paul says. He and John are tangled in the crisp sheets of the hotel, their feet knotted and their limbs intertwined and lay in knots. A thin sheen of sweat covers the pair and their eyes start to become heavy with sleep. The pair is in a dreamy state, and both are recalling the details of their first experience with sexual intercourse._

John shifts his weight and tucks Paul's head under his own. "To who?"  
"Anybody."

"Me?" John asks, hoping for a yes.

Paul rolls over to face his lover and presses his forehead to John's. "Yes."

Lennon closes the gap and brushes his lips against Paul's. "Let's do it."

"Okay." Paul agrees. "Then, we can go adopt some kids. How many do you want?"

John partner mulls this over for a few seconds, his finger tapping his chin. "Four, two boys and two girls."

"Gear. I want four, too." Paul admits. The sun is just barely peeking over the horizon and it gives the bedroom a slight pinkish tint. John takes this as a sigh to get some sleep, and Paul groans as John pretends to snore. 

Two months later, the pair goes to a jewelry store to purchase rings for the other. To fool the shopkeeper, they both pretend to be buying their own wedding bands.

_"I love the thickness of this one." John says as he points to an extremely thick golden band. Paul peers over his lover's shoulder at his choice._

"Yeah, that's nice." Paul agrees. "I like it a lot as well."

"Should we buy them?" John asks with a quick chuckle pinned to the end. "We bought Mary and Grace those thinner ones, remember?"

Paul plays along with this lover's lead and nods. Taking out a crumpled sheet of paper, he slides it over the counter to the keeper. "Can we get this engraved on them? Our fiancés picked them out."

"Sure." The man says as he examines the paper. On it, in block script and a loopier handwriting, is 'Same song, but let's start the second verse' and 'Put it back on, so we start the happy ever after'

Of course, buying those rings made the boy incredibly happy, but it is nothing compared to their pure excitement of their wedding, preformed in the living room of their apartment.

i]Paul reaches over to the velvet pillow and cautiously plucks John's ring off. He takes John's left hand in his and slides the band on. "John Winston Lennon, accept this ring as a token of my love."

John nods and whispers "I will."

Paul smiles hugely, showing his pearly white teeth. John strokes his cheek and gracefully picks up Paul's nearly identical one. "James Paul McCartney, accept this ring as a token of my love."

"I will." Paul chokes out through his rapidly forming tears. He can't help it, he's just so happy.

A tear slides down Paul's cheek and John whisks it away with the back of his hand. Grinning as far as John could, he softly says "I may now kiss my husband."

John pulls Paul's face to his own and touches his lips to Paul's, sealing their makeshift marriage. Paul thinks about how lucky he is to have found his true love, while John wonders about what this will bring for the pair.

"I now pronounce us man and wife." John whispers sarcastically into his lover's ear as Paul nuzzles into his neck.

"John." Paul says, rubbing his tear-stained eyes in John's hair. He's never been happier. "Now's not the time."

"I now pronounce us man and not wife." John corrects, trying his hardest not to laugh. Paul doesn't appreciate his husband's humor, though.

Paul punches John lightly on the arm and pulls away, embarrassed at being called the feminine one. "You're horrible."

"But you love me."

"Yeah, I do." He blushes, something as common as breathing for him these days.[/i]

As beautiful and real as their love seems, it can't last.

_"John, I can't do this." Paul wails. The newspaper sits in his lap, open to an article about a homosexual couple who are now spending their next years in jail. This greatly bothers Paul, for he doesn't want to be behind bars just for sharing a kiss with his husband, his illegally married, homosexual husband._

John walks over to Paul, and plants a kiss on the top of his head. He has no idea about his husband's worries, or what would sprout from them. "What can't you do? Read the paper?"

"I can't be married like this anymore." Paul says as he buries his face in his hands. He doesn't want to necessarily break up with John, but he doesn't want to have to hide himself and his lover anymore.

John's surprised, and suddenly very upset. He absolutely doesn't want to divorce Paul, especially now that Paul is in the process of adopting a child for them to share. The pair has narrowed the choice down, and is planning to do and get the paperwork down over the weekend. "What do you mean, Paulie? Do you not love me anymore?"

Paul lets a tear run down his cheek. "No, Johnny, I do love you. So much. But I can't live a lie like this anymore, I just can't. Other couples like us are in fucking jail, while we sit up here making love and sipping champagne. It's sick."

"No, Paul. We're just smarter than they are. We know not to go lip-locking in the park." John shoots back. He can't believe this is happening, him and Paul are supposed to be together forever. It's in their bloody wedding vows!

"Maybe, but I feel so guilty." Paul whispers. He's not sure where this will go, but he thinks that this will be the end of his marriage. And surprisingly, he's not feeling horrible. Paul thinks this is the right thing to do, while John's crumbling inside. He loves Paul more than anything, and he's not sure what he'll do without him.

"I'll do whatever you want." John gives in, not wanting to start a heated argument.

Paul takes a deep breath. He's not sure what he wants, but it's definitely not being confined to an apartment or the studio. He wants to go out, and not worry about the consequences of holding his husband's hand. Of course, Ringo and George both know of their marriage, and are perfectly fine with it at that, so they are always allowed to share a kiss or two. "We aren't really married, John. There's no paper with our names on it."

John now knows where this is going. Tears form in his eyes, and threaten to spill over. He doesn't want this, he wants to live his life with Paul. He wants to raise their children, have a family and a house with a big dog. Isn't that what Paul wants as well? "I know, Paul."

"We can easily break this off."

John's breath catches in his throat as he hears those words. It's really happening, Paul's breaking up with him. "Is this what you want, Paul?"

Paul yanks his golden band off his finger and places it on the table. John breaks down, his body shaking in time with his sobs. He feels as though his world is falling down. Paul's face remains stoic, but he's feeling the same pain.

"Thank you for everything, John." Paul whispers as he walks out the front door, not bothering to collect his things. Little did he know that John would pack all his clothing up in a box, and store it for when he knew that Paul would come back. 

Those two boys, the ones trying to impress the other over cigarettes, the ones secretly kissing the other goodnight, the ones dreaming of adopting a household of children to look after, have left each other.

But that's only the beginning of our story.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Starting Over**

JOHN POV

"I love you." I whispered into Paul's ear, and pressed my cheek to his. The scratchy stubble dug into my skin, and I was reminded of all the gashes he'd caused to himself that I ended up treating, despite my dislike of blood.

Paul squeezed my hand, and pushed past me into the apartment. He shot a smug smile, and kicked off his shoes onto a woven mat. I scowled and slammed the door shut with force, but not enough to startle Paul.

"No 'I love you, John'?" I asked, letting a bit of annoyance seep into my voice. The two of us just got engaged again, or so I thought, and he didn't care to express his love? Well then.

He turned and wrapped his arms around my neck. Looking into my eyes, I felt like he was swimming into my soul. "Nope. You get an 'I love you more than anything in the world, John'."

I kissed him passionately, and pulled his muscular body closer to me. Love flowed through our lips like a never ending waterfall, and lust radiated off our bodies. Paul threaded his fingers through my hair, and I fluttered mine to his waist. The cold metal of his ring pressed into the flesh of my ear, and I made sure to touch the nearly identical one onto the skin of his hip.

Paul pulled away, and rested his forehead against mine. We embraced each other for what felt like an hour, just holding each other and listening to the other's breathing.

I rocked us to a beat playing in my head, and the memories of our first dance flooded my brain. Molding Paul into the correct form, I poised the two of us into standard waltz posture with him playing the female. Without a word exchanged, we danced to no music, just stepped and twirled to the tune playing in our heads. Our bodies swayed in perfect sync.

Somehow, we ended up in the kitchen sometime later and I wasn't surprised to feel the familiar pang of hunger that so often frequented my being. Paul eyed a box of cornflakes longingly, and I could tell he felt the same.

"Hungry, are you?" I asked as I separated myself from him. Paul nodded, and made a move towards the refrigerator happily. Carefully, I took two porcelain bowls from the cupboard above the sink, the nice crystal ones that Yoko and I only used for special occasions. The delicate glass shined in the fading sun, and sent little rainbows onto the walls.

Paul took the only carton of milk from the chilly fridge, and set it gently on the counter. I poured a generous amount of cereal into the pair of bowls and then sent a spiral of creamy milk chasing after it. After shoveling a spoonful into my mouth, I led Paul over to the tiny dining table. He caught me in a kiss, and took his helping out of my hands.

"Eat up before it gets all soggy." I warned from experience.

Paul chuckled and ate nearly half of his dinner in one mouthful. "I won't, trust me."

"I always do." I sweetly purred while taking a sip of the leftover milk pooling in the bottom.

As we finished, it became known that the wives deserved a call. Yoko would be worried sick if I didn't send her a line, and Linda would probably feel the same about Paul. I finished my meal first, and therefore was forced to make the job first.

The line rang once before the Asian woman frantically answered. "Father?"

"Hi, Mother." I replied, catching Paul's eye. He shyly looked away and picked at his fingernail awkwardly. "How are you?"

"Good, good. Sean's good, I'm good, we're all good." Yoko sputtered out. "How are you feeling today?"

I ran my fingers through my hair and responded "I'm fine. Paul visited today, it was lovely. I really missed him."

Paul covered his mouth with his hand, and winked. I kicked his shin under the table, and trailed my toe up his pant leg.

"Oh, that's great." Yoko said with no emotion, almost as if she was slightly jealous.

We made small talk for a few more minutes, before Sean's high-pitched cries filled the air. Yoko bid me a goodnight and promised to talk tomorrow. I blew a kiss to the woman, and to my infant son as I pressed the end call button.

Paul went next, and hesitantly took the phone from my outstretched hand. I could see the pain in his eyes as he listened to his wife's voice and then his children's. Guilt and many other horrible feelings swarmed into my brain at the sight. I saw what I was doing to this man, and I didn't like it.

When he eventually hung up, Paul put on a brave face. "Well, what-"

"I'm sorry." I apologized sincerely.

Shock and confusion crossed his face, and he shook his head slowly. "No, John. Don't be sorry. If you recall, this whole mess was my fault. I was the one who called everything off."

"I know, but-"

He placed a finger to my lips. "No, John. No."

I took his hand and kissed each finger before setting it back onto the table. "Thank you."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: I Want You**

PAUL POV

I rolled over, my feet tangled in the sheets and my hair plastered to my forehead in clearly defined clumps. John snored slightly next to me, his bare chest rising and falling with a solid rhythm. Softly, I lifted my head from the over-fluffed pillow and placed my head on his shoulder. He stirred and his eyelids fluttered open like butterfly's wings.

"Morning, love." John slurred as he stretched his arms over his head, then brought them to a rest around my shoulders. He drummed his fingers against my chest and gazed at the painting on the far wall. "I see you ended up on your precious left side of the bed. Aren't you a lucky one?"

"Morning, John." I sighed, shaking my head. "Originally, you were over here but I climbed over you."

John cackled and flicked my ear. "You bastard."

"Shut up, or I'll go back to Scotland." I warned jokingly.

He gasped and shot up, staring into my eyes. "Please tell me that was a joke."

"It was, I promise." I assured him as I began to feel warm and fuzzy inside. He was worried I'd leave him how sweet. I was overcome with intense and real love, it radiated off me in waves I was sure.

Throwing the blankets off of his naked body, John jumped up onto his feet. I resisted the urge to stare and laid flat on my back while he dressed, giving him some privacy. Suddenly, I heard footsteps run out of the bedroom and down the hallway.

"John?" I called while shielding my eyes from the sunlight that was creeping into the bedroom. When he didn't answer, I tossed back my own bedcovers and touched my toes to the icy floors. Not caring that I was stark naked, I hurried out into the hallway. "John? Where are you?"

Then, after about thirty more seconds of shouting, the idiot appeared from one of the other bedroom. His hair was a shaggy mess but it gave him a certain air that I found absolutely irresistible. In his muscular arms was a cardboard box, seams spilt and water marks painting the sides. He walked over calmly, kissed my lips gently and handed me the box.

I flipped open the lid and wasn't the least bit ready for what I was about to see. Inside were each and every one of my clothes from all those years ago, back when we lived together. On the top and sides, John had stuffed pictures and other objects I'd left behind that night. I was amazed he had kept everything, and I really meant everything.

With shaking fingers, I tugged a black-framed picture free. It was of John and I, obviously, our lips mere inches from touching and our eyes gazing into the others. My heart swelled with the memory of that moment, the happiness from that day filling my senses. I reached out and brushed my hand against John's cheek while carefully balancing the box on my hip.

"I love you." I whispered as the tears started to fill my eyes.  
He cupped my face in his hands and kissed my eyelids. "I love you too. Now, let's get dressed so we can get the divorce papers together."

I gasped, and nearly dropped the box onto the floor. "John, I haven't decided about completely giving up my life with Linda just yet. I've got kids and a family, as do you. How do you think Yoko or Sean will feel once they find out? Hm?"

"I'm sorry, Paul." John apologized sincerely. "I just assumed that you did after you flew all the way here and how you wanted to get married-"

"It's okay, really. I just freaked out a little." I shrugged his comment off with a wave of my hand. "It's just that I don't want to hurt Linda or make the children feel like they have to choose between me and her."

John nodded and took the box from my hands, placing it on the dresser in his bedroom. He yanked out a pair of jeans, underclothes and a shirt and neatly re-folded them before placing them on the dresser top. I walked over and began to pull them on, not meeting John's eyes.

"The thing is," John started to say, startling me "is that I really love you, Paul. Like, really love you. As in I never want to leave your side. I just want the best for you, love, and if that means for you to stay with Linda then so be it. I promise not to be mad or upset. Your happiness is all I want. Yes, I'd be overjoyed if you decided to stay with me. We could finally adopt those kids we wanted and live in our dream house."

I stopped fumbling with the buttons on my shirt and looked up at the man in front of me. Tears dotted the corners of his eyes, and he looked so hurt and pitiful. It was seeing him like this that made me realize what I really wanted.

Fluttering my hands down to his waist, I rested my forehead against his. "John, let's go get that lawyer."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: The End**

"Mr. Lennon?" the elderly lawyer says, a fancy ink pen poised in his hand. "Sign here, please."

John smiles at me, both of us knowing what would happen the second he scribbled his name across the bottom of that paper. His and Yoko's marriage would be gone, poof. No more John Winston Ono Lennon, no more bed-ins or "Give peace a chance". Sean would be the product of a broken family and most likely growing up without a father, or a mother for that matter. Yoko would be heartbroken to no end and who knows what that could lead to.

I hesitantly grinn back and eyed the pen. With just a flick of his wrist, his whole life as he knew it would be over.

He begins to lower the pen to the paper, a small drop of thick black ink stains the crisp official-looking paper. My breath hitches in my throat.

_Linda on our wedding day, Mary nestled inside her stomach and Heather clinging to her sleeve._

The pen inches closer.

_James refusing to eat his mashed bananas. Linda forcing a smile to encourage the boy to open his mouth and eat. _

Closer.

_Mary and Stella dressed in little dresses and Linda sipping tea beside them_.

Drip goes the ink.

_Laugher at Christmas. Presents wrapped in shiny paper. _

Splat on the white paper.

_Birthday candles._

Black stains.

_Babies crying._

Splash.

_Linda._

"Stop!" I shout as I grab John's hand. He drops the pen and it falls to the floor, more black ink splattering the carpet. "Just stop it. Please."

John's eyes widen. He glances from me to the lawyer, then back again. "Paul? What's the matter?"

"I-I can't," I sputtered, my eyes filling with tears. I can't be responsible for breaking up two families. At home, Linda's probably fixing lunch for the kids. Yoko's most likely cuddling with Sean. Both women completely unaware of what's happening in this room. Both have no idea their husbands are signing divorce papers. Not a clue.

The lawyer awkwardly clears his throat. He pushes the pile of documents closer to us and holds out a set of fresh pens. "It's perfectly normal-"

"I can't do this, John," I whispered, not paying attention to the words of the professional man sitting across from me.

John reaches over and tugs at my left hand. Holding up my ring to the light, he reminds me of why we're even here. I want to marry him, I truly do, but I can't just leave my family: Linda, Heather, Mary, Stella, James. They need me and honestly, I need them. But the conflict here is John or Linda? My life-long crush, or my dedicated and loyal wife? The man who knows me best or the woman who showed me how to live? John or Linda? Man or woman? Queer or straight? Love or need?

"Paul," John says in an equally hushed tone. "You can do this. We can be together. All we have to do is sign our names on this paper."

I don't respond, just stare blankly at the pen being offered to me.

"Here, it's easy," he replies, confident. He takes the pen from the lawyer and sets the tip to the paper delicately. The "J" begins to form, but I yank the thing from his clutch before the "o" can take shape.

"No," I shakily say. "No, John."

He seems taken aback and releases the pen from his palm. It crashes to the wooden desktop and clangs against a ceramic dish filled with paperclips. "W-what? No?"

Linda wins.

"No," I command, now having found my bearings. I tossed my own pen to the desktop and watch it bounce off of the paper. "We're not doing this."

John bites his lip and furrows his brow together. He looks to the lawyer in a silent plead for a moment of privacy, which is granted. The man stands and exits the office in a rush, clearly making a beeline for the coffee machine in the waiting room.

I run my hands over my face and close my eyes. "John, I'm sorry."

"Why?" he asks. A few locks of hair dangle in front of his eyes and obscure his vision, I'm sure.  
"We have our own families-"

John gently touches a hand to my cheek and sighs. "Second guessing  
yourself?"

I nod my head slightly, afraid of what might happen. John could either be furious or outraged, I just didn't know which right now.

"Do you want to walk out of here right now?" John asks, his voice wavering. I don't dare look into his eyes.

"Y-yes," I respond. Quickly, I stand and shuffle over to the door, keeping my head down. My hand hovers over the doorknob. If I walk out this door, then all chances of being with John are gone. No more kisses, no more love. Nothing. But it's the right thing, I'm sure. I have to be.

I slide my wedding band from my finger and place it on a bookshelf. It sits there, gleaming. The engraving still shines brightly, as if it was carved yesterday.

With one scared look, I glance back at John.

His face his buried in his arms and his shoulders jerk. A sharp sob erupts through the room and tears my heart into two. This is it, this is my last chance.

But I don't take it.

Like a coward, I throw the door open and run out.

That was the last time I ever saw John.

_December 7, 1980_

Dear Paul,

How are you, old friend? Still alive and well, I hope? I assume you're fine, since nothing has been said about you in the news recently. How are the kids? And Linda?

I'm fine, thanks for asking. I had a dream last night where an Angel told me that something big was going to happen and that I should write to you. So here I am. Just following a bloody Angel's orders. Pathetic, yeah? Well, I want to patch things up.

I know that things ended badly between the two of us, and I just want to let you know I'm not blaming you for what happened. We rushed into things a bit too fast, despite our history. It's alright, really. Don't worry about it, mate. I understand now and it's all good. If I was in the right state of mind, then I would do the same. That lawyer was an arse anyways. I would've done it, you know. I would've written my name at the bottom of that document. I would've married you, too. In fact, I still would.

Well, I just wanted to let you know I'm okay and all that shit. Miss you, Macca. Call me, will you?

I love you.

John

P.S. I thought you might want your ring back, so I shipped it. I included mine as well; the Angel said to do that too. She said you would want it. God, I need to visit the loony bin. All this talk about Angels is making me crazy.

The End.


End file.
